80 Frost, Year 122
Hilana would have been lying if she had said she wasn’t determined to try to make up for Finn’s and Khyan’s injuries to their respective amati. While things had been smoothed over with Æros, Arvaelyn was a more difficult nut to crack. The silent treatment from the Dragonborn princeps was certainly preferable to the alternatives of having her brain broken repeatedly or being killed outright for the transgression of returning his partner in worse condition than he had left the city in. But it was still cold comfort, and Hilana had had to put her thinking cap on. She knew that Arry would like to set himself apart from the other royals, of either court, and as such she had made a suggestion. Why didn’t she take him and Finn to the Frost Festival?
It seemed like it could kill a few birds with one stone. The Umbrium could make headway and an even greater impression on the denizens of the sands. They wanted to shore up their influence on the Expanse, and to Hilana, this was the quickest way to do it. While the Sentinels had static outposts studded throughout the desert, around which villages, towns, and outposts had grown, the appearance of a member of the Royal family at the biggest annual gathering of nomadic Vastii was unheard of. Those that lived beyond the walls of the cities rarely merited much thought. A priest might have been assigned to an area where tribes passed through, and if a clan was large enough, they might merit one that would travel with them. A census was hardly ever done to completion, and most issues might have been reported to the Sentinel outposts that were closest, and beyond that, civil issues might have been handled by some beleaguered bureaucrat.
An orcani-blooded killer was sheltered in the city, and nothing had been done when he was actively hunting and harming their kin, which said plenty. But Arvaelyn would have a unique opportunity to be seen, to talk with the chiefs, and enjoy a sample of the culture that Hilana was so proud of. It might not have been the luxury and refinement that he was becoming accustomed to now, but if he was going to lead, he may as well see what went on with those who still roamed the sands. Finn, too, had said before that he wanted to meet more of her people, and sit with them and learn. There were stories, and his Vastian had come such a long way since she had met him the season prior. His Emblem helped, of course, but he’d also put the work in. Hilana had been proud of her student, and she only hoped that they weren’t disappointed by the gathering.
Hilana had gone ahead with the Sentinel security detail, having explained and marked on the maps to show them back home where they were going for the festival. A portal would be made to bring her friends to the festival so that a still-recuperating Finn would not need to endure a very, very long day on a wyvern to get to the southern desert where the festival was held. The Vastiana had met up with her maternal grandmother, and with her talked to her tribe’s chief, and between the chieftains and the Sentinels, arrangements were made. Space and tents were set for the guests of honour and their detail, and Hilana had her own little spot nearby though her grandmother had told her she could stay with her family. It had been too long. She would have time yet with them, and there was much to talk about.
The sands were teeming with people. It was nothing compared to the population of the cities, or but by nomadic standards, the thousands that came for the festival was a massive gathering. Camps were spread out, arranged as they were by millennia of tradition. Those who had been before knew where to go, and this taught the newer ones, the way learning was regularly passed down. There were tents of all shapes and sizes, from small, two-person models to much larger yurt-like structures; lean-tos and sunshades were arranged, fires were burning, and the giant camp sprawled out. There was no real uniformity to the assortment of those camping out, even amongst the different tribes. A few had identifying markings and designs painted on the tents, but not each of the tribes elected to do that. In the middle of it all was a more open central area for the dancing and the shows and displays, the ‘stage’ in the middle having been formed of rock and sand that had been put together by the elementalists amongst them. Along the outskirts were countless animals of all species, from little tegus to camels to bison and hawks and game birds. Handmade wares, food, items that had been scavenged and found, and even a number of traders had made their way out with all kinds of goods. The breeze carried the scents of cooking food, campfires, and plenty of people. This year would be different, as the Sceptre of Avaerys protected them all from the darkness, but it meant there were no moons and stars visible for them to revel under. It made no difference; the Vastii would enjoy themselves all the same.
Hilana dressed in her vibrantly colourful skirts of blue and gold and silver, her pythons on her shoulders, waited with the Sentinels for the portal to the Umbrium that was being opened for their guests. The pendant that had been gifted to her by High Sentinel Cithaera hung from her neck, in addition to her usual earrings, though she also had a few bangles on her wrists. Her Wildness sang, and she rocked lightly onto her toes with anticipation and the energy of her people. She was home. It had been years since she had been here last, but it felt like she hadn't been away from them for so long. Not too far away, multiple chiefs and elders were watching, hushed and deeply curious, and truthfully, a bit disbelieving. When the young woman had said that the Crown Prince of the Umbrium and his Amatus, Finn Farstrider, were going to attend their festival, it seemed as far-fetched as her announcing a peace treaty with the orcani brutes beyond the borders.
Hilana would have been lying if she had said she wasn’t determined to try to make up for Finn’s and Khyan’s injuries to their respective amati. While things had been smoothed over with Æros, Arvaelyn was a more difficult nut to crack. The silent treatment from the Dragonborn princeps was certainly preferable to the alternatives of having her brain broken repeatedly or being killed outright for the transgression of returning his partner in worse condition than he had left the city in. But it was still cold comfort, and Hilana had had to put her thinking cap on. She knew that Arry would like to set himself apart from the other royals, of either court, and as such she had made a suggestion. Why didn’t she take him and Finn to the Frost Festival?
It seemed like it could kill a few birds with one stone. The Umbrium could make headway and an even greater impression on the denizens of the sands. They wanted to shore up their influence on the Expanse, and to Hilana, this was the quickest way to do it. While the Sentinels had static outposts studded throughout the desert, around which villages, towns, and outposts had grown, the appearance of a member of the Royal family at the biggest annual gathering of nomadic Vastii was unheard of. Those that lived beyond the walls of the cities rarely merited much thought. A priest might have been assigned to an area where tribes passed through, and if a clan was large enough, they might merit one that would travel with them. A census was hardly ever done to completion, and most issues might have been reported to the Sentinel outposts that were closest, and beyond that, civil issues might have been handled by some beleaguered bureaucrat.
An orcani-blooded killer was sheltered in the city, and nothing had been done when he was actively hunting and harming their kin, which said plenty. But Arvaelyn would have a unique opportunity to be seen, to talk with the chiefs, and enjoy a sample of the culture that Hilana was so proud of. It might not have been the luxury and refinement that he was becoming accustomed to now, but if he was going to lead, he may as well see what went on with those who still roamed the sands. Finn, too, had said before that he wanted to meet more of her people, and sit with them and learn. There were stories, and his Vastian had come such a long way since she had met him the season prior. His Emblem helped, of course, but he’d also put the work in. Hilana had been proud of her student, and she only hoped that they weren’t disappointed by the gathering.
Hilana had gone ahead with the Sentinel security detail, having explained and marked on the maps to show them back home where they were going for the festival. A portal would be made to bring her friends to the festival so that a still-recuperating Finn would not need to endure a very, very long day on a wyvern to get to the southern desert where the festival was held. The Vastiana had met up with her maternal grandmother, and with her talked to her tribe’s chief, and between the chieftains and the Sentinels, arrangements were made. Space and tents were set for the guests of honour and their detail, and Hilana had her own little spot nearby though her grandmother had told her she could stay with her family. It had been too long. She would have time yet with them, and there was much to talk about.
The sands were teeming with people. It was nothing compared to the population of the cities, or but by nomadic standards, the thousands that came for the festival was a massive gathering. Camps were spread out, arranged as they were by millennia of tradition. Those who had been before knew where to go, and this taught the newer ones, the way learning was regularly passed down. There were tents of all shapes and sizes, from small, two-person models to much larger yurt-like structures; lean-tos and sunshades were arranged, fires were burning, and the giant camp sprawled out. There was no real uniformity to the assortment of those camping out, even amongst the different tribes. A few had identifying markings and designs painted on the tents, but not each of the tribes elected to do that. In the middle of it all was a more open central area for the dancing and the shows and displays, the ‘stage’ in the middle having been formed of rock and sand that had been put together by the elementalists amongst them. Along the outskirts were countless animals of all species, from little tegus to camels to bison and hawks and game birds. Handmade wares, food, items that had been scavenged and found, and even a number of traders had made their way out with all kinds of goods. The breeze carried the scents of cooking food, campfires, and plenty of people. This year would be different, as the Sceptre of Avaerys protected them all from the darkness, but it meant there were no moons and stars visible for them to revel under. It made no difference; the Vastii would enjoy themselves all the same.
Hilana dressed in her vibrantly colourful skirts of blue and gold and silver, her pythons on her shoulders, waited with the Sentinels for the portal to the Umbrium that was being opened for their guests. The pendant that had been gifted to her by High Sentinel Cithaera hung from her neck, in addition to her usual earrings, though she also had a few bangles on her wrists. Her Wildness sang, and she rocked lightly onto her toes with anticipation and the energy of her people. She was home. It had been years since she had been here last, but it felt like she hadn't been away from them for so long. Not too far away, multiple chiefs and elders were watching, hushed and deeply curious, and truthfully, a bit disbelieving. When the young woman had said that the Crown Prince of the Umbrium and his Amatus, Finn Farstrider, were going to attend their festival, it seemed as far-fetched as her announcing a peace treaty with the orcani brutes beyond the borders.
